2.17 Naila

It was well past one a.m. in D.C where my cousin lived. If my neck hadn't been on the chopping block, I might have waited for a more civilized hour to call.

I tried the number as Dita had given it to me with the extra digit and, not surprisingly, didn't get through. One of the numbers had to go, so I dropped the one at the end and, presto, the phone started to ring.

"Hello?" My aunt said, answering. She sounded wide-awake. Must have been the jetlag.

"Hello. Ammteh Michelin, this is Rémy."

" Rémy! It's so good to hear your voice. What are you doing?"

" Ammteh, I haven't got much time. Is Naila there?"

"Yes, but she's sleeping."

"Listen: I need to talk to her right now. It's very important."

"Shall I wake her?"

"Yes, yes. Yalla! Wake her, please!"

"Khalass, Rémy. I'll get her."

Naila was still half asleep when she came to the phone. It always took her a good half hour to sweep the cobwebs out of her head and start talking coherently. I didn’t have the time for patience.

"Naila, you sent me a package a few weeks ago."

There was a muffled grunt on the other side of the phone. Hardly the kind of unequivocal affirmation circumstances demanded.

"Naila, you've got to wake up and listen. You sent me a package, right."

"Yeah," she said, blowing her nose into the receiver.

"What did you send me?"

She mumbled something about dryer sheets, charcoal for my argileh. These were the same things she had mentioned in her mail. I didn't want to know about that.

"What else did you send?"

"Um, I don't remember."

"Naila, you've got to remember! What was in the package?"

After a pause, she said, "Vitamins."

"Vitamins? What the hell do you mean by vitamins?” My aunt must have been eavesdropping. “Listen, Naila, my place was raided by the police this morning."

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry, Rémy!” My cousin was wide awake now. “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so . . ."

" Naila, what did you send?"

"Adderall," was the soft answer.

“Adderall . . . “

In a way, it was a huge relief to hear that a fairly common prescription drug was behind all the fuss. Things could have been much, much worse and I admitted so to my cousin.

"I want to say it's alright, Naila. Hey, no problem. But I can't. I'm in a shitload of trouble . . . not nearly as much trouble as I could have been if the police had, say, raided my place last week . . . if you catch my drift."

She did. After living with me for ten months the previous year, there wasn't much Naila didn't know about me.

"The thing is, Naila," I continued "and forgive me for being vulgar, but I feel as if the cops are pointing their fingers at me and accusing me of farting when, in reality, I've shit my pants.”

Halfway around the world, a nervous laugh bubbled out of my cousin.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Not a fucking clue. I don't know what my options are, for one. I don't even know if I'm legally obliged to talk to the cops. And, I don’t know how contained this is."

“What do you mean?”

“The Party,” I answered.

“Oh, right.”

The Party was the nickname Naila and I had given my friend, Jean, who had a habit of replying, “I am the party,” whenever someone asked him if there were any parties going.

My cousin implored me to leave Japan. “You told me you were thinking of leaving Japan,” she said. “Now's your chance."

"I can't, Naila. Bastards took my passport away.”

"Oh, haraam, Rémy, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"I haven't got much time left on this card. Listen: I'm not angry with you, Naila. So, save the apologies for later . . . I have to go in on Sunday for questioning. I'll try to call again before then, okay?"

"Okay."

"But, just in case, God forbid, I don't get through to you again, if you're ever asked: I did not ask for the Adderall to be sent. I did not want it. Did not need it. I did not even know it was coming. Okay? I didn't ask, didn't want, didn't know. You got that?”

"Yes."

"Good. I'll call again. Bye."

"Be careful, Rémy. I'm so sorry."

"I didn't ask, didn't want, didn't know . . . I didn't ask . . . "

And then the phone went dead.

© Aonghas Crowe, 2010. All rights reserved. No unauthorized duplication of any kind.

注意：この作品はフィクションです。登場人物、団体等、実在のモノとは一切関係ありません。

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No. 6 is now available on Kindle.